The Party: Celebrating 2 Years of Liliana

I just finished reading 8 pages of memories of Lily's birth that I typed up just a few days after she was born.  That seems like FOREVER ago!  So much has happened, and labor and delivery (blessedly) seem so far in the past.  But then, too, it's gone by so quickly!  Have I cherished each moment?  Have I made the most of each day?  Have I taught her all that she needs to know thus far?

The answer to each of those questions is, in some ways yes and in some ways no.  But here is what I do know: each birthday, each year, each day is worth celebrating.  So, we celebrate birthdays at our house!

Lily was born on a very special day - she was born on my older brother's 30th birthday.  But the thing is, he died when he was only 17 years old.  So her birthday, in particular, is a great reminder to me to celebrate each and every birthday and even every day, because you're never assured of another.  I, myself, have been critical of the way others celebrate birthdays.  "They invite too many people," I've said.  "That party was so overwhelming," I've commented.  "I wonder how much money they spent," I've whispered judgmentally to my long-suffering husband.

But yesterday, again, I was reminded that it's not important HOW you choose to celebrate, but simply that you DO celebrate especially each year with your loved ones.  They are SO valuable, and such a blessing!  So I'll get off my little "celebrate however you choose to, but make sure you celebrate" soap box and get to the good stuff:  Lily's party!  Here is how it went...

Saturday, Lily's birthday and the day of the party, she napped at Grandma Becky's house so Daddy and I could get the house ready and decorated.  Grandma Becky brought Lily to the house about 30 minutes before anyone else got there, so she had a chance to take it all in.  I got her first reactions on video, and it was hilarious!  The first thing she saw as she walked into the house was her cake/present table:

As she walked in and saw everything, her little mouth hung open and she just looked around for a solid 20 seconds - mouth hanging open in a big "O" the whole time!  Then she got this look on her face for the rest of the day:

We had a VERY happy little girl on our hands.  She noticed (and obsessed) over the cupcakes throughout the party...

Her daddy caved and let her have a little one before anyone got to the house, and I think it was a good thing, because she was on a sugar high and didn't get shy when people got here.  Our theme was a "Zoo Party" (going off of the fact that Chase and my gift to her was her trip to the zoo).  And here was how we partied like animals:

Chocolate penguin cupcakes with white frosting and Oreo faces and wings.  They were on a bed of coconut with pretzel rods dipped in chocolate making up their cage.  (The cage looks kinda cool, but seriously for all you DIYers out there - DON'T DO IT!  It was the most complicated part of the whole cake process...)

What's a zoo party without lions?!?  Funfetti cake with caramel corn manes and M&M ears.

These were supposed to be monkeys.  But Lily called them bears.  And Wendy called them pigs.  Maybe they're the missing link.  I'm really not sure, but they tasted delicious!  Chocolate cake with M&M's for ears.

And last but certainly not least (and my favorite!), elephants.  Even though the Henry Doorly Zoo does not currently have elephants, we still celebrated as if we'd seen them the day before.  Ears out of pretzels dipped in white chocolate that we colored with a bit of black food coloring.  Trunks of white chocolate I made with the left overs from dipping the ears.

We had an entirely themed menu as well that included Monkey Snack bananas, Elephant Food peanuts,

Chimp Chips, Tiger Tails cheetos,

Sloppy Joeys (joeys are baby kangaroos for those of you like my husband who had no idea what a joey was...),

Zoo Keeper Salad, and Rabbit Food veggies.  Aaaaand my photo-bombing husband.  (That's what you get, dear, when you photo-bomb my pictures.)

After supper Lily opened her presents, which was fun to watch.  She loves every single gift she got, and took a minute to play with each thing.  She got great basic toys that we were missing like blocks and cars.

The above car was her favorite - a gift from my grandparents.  When you hook it up to it's key and push a button, it zooms across the floor.  Lily was so thrilled with this toy that she didn't want to open the rest of her presents!  I actually had to bribe her with cupcakes.  It went something like this, "Lily, do you want a cupcake?"  "YES!" (as she drops the car and turns to run for the cake table).  "Then you have to open your last 3 presents."  My mom commented, "You'll never have to do that again!"  :)  I can never remember being more excited about cake than I was about presents, but my girl does love her sweets...

In the end, she was glad she opened the last 3 presents.  As soon as she pulled the book out of the present from Grandma Gayle, she ran over and asked her to read it - that is definitely my girl!

And the above is the rocking chair that I had when I was little, but it wasn't as cute then.  My mom redid the chair for Lily.  She likes rocking in it now, but I suspect that when baby brother or sister comes along and I am rocking in my rocking chair a lot, she'll be extra excited to have her own big girl rocking chair to rock her dollies along with me.

We finished the evening by eating cupcakes and playing with Lily's new toys.  By 8pm, she was one very, very, very tired little girl and despite her best efforts at a sugar high, she was tanking.

Thanks to our family who came to celebrate our dear girl with us - we are so grateful for each of you and the role you play in her life.  And for our family and friends who were not at the party, please know that we love you and are grateful, too, for all that you invest in our Lily.

Here's to 2 years, and hoping for many, many, many more!  We love you Liliana Jo!

Going to the Zoo!

A few weeks ago, it hit me: Why don't we take Lily to the zoo for her birthday instead of getting her gifts?  She loves animals.  She has this animal movie (by Baby Genius) that she has watched at least 41,873 times since she turned 1.  (Not that I'm a "bad mom" who would let her child watch said movie 114.7 times per day over the last year, but you get what I mean...)  So I talked with Chase, he agreed, I reserved a hotel room, and it was planned.

It all began with a little preparation:

That's Lily reading books to Frazier in our living room while watching her zoo animals movie.  She's already a multi-tasker, and (like her mother) understands the importance of proper research.  Once she was armed with facts, had explored the possibilities, had an idea of what was coming, and had been properly psyched up by her family, the big day arrived...

That is Lily at the zoo's entrance.  She was, clearly, still a little nervous about the whole thing.  I've mentioned before how important it is that life meet her expectations.  If she doesn't know what to do, then my daughter is likely to sit back and not participate.  She also gets easily overwhelmed by things and activity that are out of our normal routine.  These were my two biggest concerns with this zoo adventure: (1) that she'd sit back and not participate and (2) that she'd be overwhelmed and we'd have to leave immediately.

At the recommendation of a friend and because we knew the penguins would be a hit (she read the book Busy, Busy Penguins on the way from the hotel to the zoo), we started in the aquarium.  As expected, the penguins were a huge hit, and we watched them play and dive for a bit.  Then it was on to that part in the aquarium where it's the biggest fish tank, and you walk through a tunnel underneath/through it and sharks and stingrays and other fish are swimming all around and above you.  She lasted about 4 seconds in her stroller, then wanted to be held, stated (through tears) that she was all done, and demanded a plug (aka paci).  I feared it really was over!

But then we got to tanks like this one:

Smaller fish in bright colors that did not swim over her head seemed to do the trick and she settled down... though she kept a very tight hold on her blanket and teddy bear.  After the aquarium, which, all in all was a success, we headed to the giraffes.  She'd been talking about seeing giraffes for 2 days!  It was bound to be a favorite, right?

Let me pause here and say how glad I am that I read a really great article (that I now cannot find the link to... shoulda pinned it!) that talked about how children between the ages of 2 and 4 don't always understand boundaries.  I mean things like literal fences.  So when they see the dog on the other side of the fence (that the dog clearly cannot get through) the child is still likely to be scared.  This is because they don't have a frame of reference for the reality of fences.  The article also mentioned holes in the ground and how some children may imagine that the hole will keep expanding and swallow them up.  It's a sort of catastrophizing instinct before the temporal lobe in the brain is fully developed.  Isn't that cool?!?  So when your toddler freaks out about something they are scared of, it's up to us as parents to show them the reality, the boundary, and to gently and patiently calm their fears.  This was all very helpful background for me to have as we entered the giraffe house...

You'll notice the shocked and terrified look on teddy's face.  He was so scared he couldn't even look!  It took a little coaxing and explaining, and she did have to be held all the way through the giraffe house, but Lily did enjoy the mommy and baby giraffe we got to see.

I think every parent knows that the best thing about taking your child to the zoo isn't the things you get to see at the zoo, but rather seeing your child experience them all.  For Chase and I that was certainly true, and a highlight of the day was the sea lion training show that we stumbled upon.  Lily stood in her stroller to see over the edge, and one of the trainers and sea lions were right in front of her most of the time.

She stood on her tip toes and leaned as far as she could over the railing to get as close as possible.  She pointed, laughed, and wanted us to experience the whole thing along with her.  She'd say, "Look, Mom!  He got it!" and giggle and repeat until I agreed with her.  She'd point to the sea lion swimming and jumping across the lagoon and say, "Look, Dad!"

By mid-morning she'd warmed up to the idea of seeing animals from the safety of the fences.  And by after lunch, she wanted to, "Go see 'em," at every exhibit.  By that, she meant she wanted to hop the fence, break through the glass and actually interact with the animals.  Thankfully Chase and I are still strong enough to physically restrain her, but it was much to her chagrin...

We all learned a few new animals and words.  Did you know a Bongo is an actual animal?  I didn't take a picture of one, but it's kind of like a cross between a zebra and an antelope.  And I should mention that seeing the antelope was funny, because Lily called them, "Cantelope."  :)

She enjoyed the Aviary, and because there weren't many people in the exhibit with us, she was brave and ran ahead...

The gorilla house was exciting, because monkeys and gorillas are fun to watch.  We stayed by some of the monkeys for a while, then moved on to the gorillas who were hilarious.  They'd just gotten fed.  (We actually got lucky and most of the animals we saw either were being fed or had just been fed when we visited them, so almost everything was active when we went by.)  The gorillas all sat with their backs to the glass at different points along the windows and were just eating.  It was like they didn't want to give us the satisfaction of seeing their fronts while they ate!

Being this close to a gorilla was ok for Lily as long as the gorilla's back was turned.  He glanced over his shoulder at us and teddy got a neck-lock and we had to move on.

We stopped in the petting zoo, but all there was to pet really was goats, so we didn't stay too long.  There were bunnies there too, but we couldn't pet them, which was a real disappointment since she could always pet my sister's rabbits.  We tried for a family photo as we headed out of the petting zoo, but this was the best we got:

Chase and I made a "wrong turn" when heading from the petting zoo back to the rain forest, which was our last stop before heading home.  We ended up walking the entire HUGE loop around the zoo rather than walking about 1/4 of it, taking the elevator up the hill, and ending up at the rain forest.  It wore all three of us out, and while we did go through the rain forest, it was a quick buzz-through kind of job.

As we headed home, we learned that my grandpa had ended up in the hospital for some testing, so we stopped by and saw him, my grandma, and my aunt.  I'm very pleased to report that all is well, and it was so nice to have an excuse to stop in and say a quick hello.

About 10 minutes after we left the hospital, this was what the back seat looked like:

She was so tired that she fell asleep with her hand still in her snack container!  Teddy was bushed, and thank heavens for lots of blankets!  I propped her up in a more comfy position, and she slept for an hour and a half on the ride home.

There were only 3 disappointments today

1. That Grandpa had to get tests done
2. That there were no elephants at the zoo
3. That the cake mix doctoring recipe that I tried on cupcakes when I got home totally failed

However, all 3 disappointments are set to be good news

1. Grandpa is well and heading home in the morning
2. The zoo is building a new, state of the art elephant habitat (so says their "master plan" on their website)
3. I'll make cupcakes using the box's instructions tomorrow and they'll turn out perfectly

What a great way to celebrate Lily's last day of being 1!

The Most Hated Chore for Man and Beast

Do you have household chores you put off for as long as possible?  I'm not talking about the "regular" household chores like vacuuming and (gasp!) dusting - I put those off too, but they still happen at relatively regular intervals.  And dishes - I hate doing them too, but they don't count.  I'm talking about seasonal kinds of things like cleaning the garage, sorting through clothes, or dusting the ceiling fans.  

Mine most hated household chore is grooming the dog.  He's a cocker spaniel, and he's a really wonderful dog.  I love him, I do!  But I HATE grooming him.  Before I had kids, he used to get baths every 6 to 8 weeks and hair cuts every 8 to 12 weeks, like clockwork.  I didn't like it, but I never let it get out of hand, and he's pretty good about things.  All that changed when I got pregnant with Lily.  

Suddenly, grooming the dog (at that point, dogs, because Brook was still alive...) meant painful pregnant heartburn from bending over through the grooming process and miserable household clean up (including the bath tub and wherever I shaved them, usually the garage unless it was sub-zero temps).  Post-pregnancy, grooming the dog simply means time away from my girl, and frankly I don't like it.

After weeks of saying how badly I "needed" to groom the dog, I finally broke down and cut his hair...  

I set the razor's box and a large aerosol can to the right of the fur so it would be possible to have some concept of how much fur there was, but it really doesn't do it justice.  Frazier looked like a miniature buff-colored bear - a friend lovingly referred to him as "Fozzy Bear."  He couldn't see because his eyelashes and eyebrows were so long, and the fur around his paws not only made them look like St. Bernard paws, but also drug in so much dirt, grass, and other junk from the yard that I don't even want to think about it!

Frazier (the dog) hates the task as much as I do, which is a slight consolation for me - misery loves company.  And he's equally as thrilled as I am when the job is concluded.  However, he always feels a bit naked, which reads as "ashamed" in his expression...

There are three major benefits to having the most miserable Francl household chore completed:

1. Frazier tracks in SO much less stuff via his paws, which means my floors stay cleaner!
2. Frazier is SUPER cuddly when his hair is this short (yes, I know it's not a traditional cocker-cut, but it's what works for us), because he's cold.  :)  Couch snuggling, bed snuggling, lap snuggling, lots of snuggling, and I don't mind snuggling with him because he's freshly clean!
3. I don't have to do it again for 3 to 4 months, or until I can't stand his fuzzy fur any more...

What is your most hated household chore?

Things Lily Says

I am the mother of an almost-2-year-old with a lot of character.  (I know, I know... what mother wouldn't say that about her child?!?)  I've observed via play groups and group activities that Lily is very different from most 2 year olds, and I want to document some of the unique things she does and says and how she acts.  I write such things in her baby book, but I think you may enjoy the stories I include here too.

Before I dive into the stories, I need to explain that my child is very calm and very verbal.  I'd even go so far as to say she's the most reserved toddler I've ever been around.  It's not that she's clingy, although she can be.  It's not that she doesn't explore or experience, because she does.  But she has expectations that need to be met, and if she's not sure how to respond in a situation, she'll sit back and be the wall flower.  She will not be the first or even the fifth child to try a new thing.  She'll need to see others do it a number of times before she'll dare to attempt it. 

She doesn't like things that make her stomach go up into her throat (like swings, being thrown in the air, or even elevators), she doesn't like to be frightened - it brings on crying fits - and she doesn't like it when I have to do dishes (and neither do I).  She doesn't like her feet to be dirty, she won't walk in the sand, and she cries if a bug flies in her face and asks me to get the bug.  But she loves to laugh, loves to be silly, and is an extremely good-natured child.  She often has a great time with the most random things like a straight curtain rod, a blanket, or just by making silly faces. 

One final thing about Lily is that she has a very extensive vocabulary and she knows how to use it.  She is what I call, "a very verbal kid."  We have a video of her at 9 months old able to correctly respond with animal sounds when I would say lion, cat, dog, owl, cow, and pig and that was just the beginning...  I can't remember her babbling incoherently.  She talks and expects me to understand and most times I do.  Complete sentences have been part of her life for a long time now.  She knows probably 15 different children's songs by heart and sings them when we ride in the car or as I'm cooking supper - I am not allowed to sing along.  I know I sound braggy (and I can because it's my blog), but I don't mean to be - I just mean to remember how I perceived my firstborn when she was almost 2.  With that introduction out of the way, let the stories begin...

About 6 weeks ago, right after I found out I was pregnant with #2, I ate lunch at the school where I work.  I took a brownie, because I love chocolate and I always eat dessert.  I took the brownie back to my office intending to enjoy it, but instead ended up spitting it out into the trash.  It wasn't that the brownie was bad - it was that I was pregnant and pregnancy does weird things to a person.  That evening I was relaying the story to Chase and Lily was playing nearby in the living room.  As I told Chase the punchline, "I spit the brownie into the trash!" Lily ran up to me with the most serious look on her face, and said, "I NEED a brownie!"  She is a girl after her mother's non-pregnant heart!

Below, Lily is sitting at her stool waiting for her nails to be painted.  She's the kind of 23 month old who sits still long enough for the paint to dry.

We had some friends over the other night, and Lily was playing in the den where we were sitting.  I was watching her, but not super closely.  I noticed she'd ran between the coffee table and the trash can a few times, so I watched her closely on her next circuit.  She grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table, wiped her nose once, wadded up the tissue, ran to the trashcan, threw it away and ran back for another.  I realized 1/2 the box was probably already gone.  As she approached the coffee table, I called, "STOP!"  She screeched to a stop with her hands on the edge of the coffee table to catch her balance.  I said, "No more kleenexes.  It's time to be all done."  She looked at me, held up one little finger and asked, "Only just one more?"  (At this point my friends all hid behind pillows, blankets, hands, or whatever was closest to disguise their laughter.)  "Ok," I said.  "Only just one more, then you need to be all done."  "Ok," she said.  

This story has to do with the two pictures below...  My grandpa, my mom's dad, had a wood working shop connected to his garage all while I was growing up.  He and my grandma have since downsized to a more manageable property, and the wood shop is no more, but we still enjoy the fruits of his labors.  One thing in our home is a plant stand that Grandpa made.  It's small, and I use it as a side table for our chair, because nothing else will fit in the space.  Lily went and grabbed the little table and did this:

"This is my podium," she says.  Chase and I look at each other and laugh.  So she leans forward on her "podium" and says (as she looks over toward our media towers), "I have movies...  I have movies..."  And what was incredible was she said it in a tone like she was really giving a speech!  But then the real motive for the whole act came out (with the topic of movies introduced...):  "Watch a movie?" she tried.  "No," we responded.  "No movie."  And this is what she did:

Each morning when either Chase or I goes to her crib to get her, Lily asks for, "Only just one plug?"  (We call her pacifiers "plugs.")  If we don't let her bring a plug, she then asks for, "Only just one blankie?"  "Yes, Lily, you can bring one blankie."

My mom has an indoor/outdoor cat named Kuzco.  One night after she'd been at Grandma's house, we put Lily to bed.  At 2 in the morning Chase and I were awakened by Lily yelling from her room.  We rushed in wondering what was wrong!  (She doesn't usually wake up in the night.)  She said, "Kuz is on the roof," put her plug back in her mouth, and laid down on her pillow to go back to sleep.  That day Kuz had gotten on Mom's roof and followed Mom and Lily around as they did different things around the outside of the house.  I guess Lily just really needed us to know that Kuz was on the roof.

This September has been unseasonably hot for the area where we live.  We've had weather that felt more like July than September and it's made some of our normal fall activities difficult.  The weather finally broke a little the 2nd to last day of the State Fair, and we made the trip over to experience it.  We arrived at about 5pm, and walked through air conditioned exhibit buildings with TONS of other people while we waited for it to cool down a little more outside.  We visited the birthing pavilion, where Lily couldn't get enough of the 1 hour old lambs.  We saw the camels.  We watched the sea lion show.  But by far, Lily's favorite was the dog show.  Below is a picture of us just before the show started.  She loves animals and seeing the dogs chase Frisbees, run through their obstacle course routine, jump and play all made her squeal and clap in delight.  It was really fun to be her parent just watching her enjoy the experience.

The other day when I went to get her up from her nap, Lily sat up in her crib and said to me, "I just woke up."  I said, "Oh, you just woke up?"  She said, "Yep.  Fourteen hours."  I said, "You slept for 14 hours?"  "Yep," she responded, "Fourteen hours."  Man, I thought, I wish I'd know it was going to be a 14 hour nap, I would have planned my day a little differently...

Lily has figured out doorknobs, much to my chagrin.  On the plus side, our bedroom doors are tight in their frames, so even though she can turn the knobs, the doors stick enough that she can't open them.  The bathroom door, however, is a different story.  Every morning when I'm getting ready for the day, Lily grabs the doorknob, and as she pulls the door shut, says, "Bye Momma.  See you later!"  The door closes.  Two seconds later, the door opens and she says, "Hi Momma!"  Then, "Bye Momma.  See you tomorrow!"  And the pattern continues.

I was going to the bathroom the other day, and Lily was (of course) in the bathroom with me.  She was trying to sit on the edge of the bathtub, which made me nervous because she's not really tall enough to do so without the potential of toppling backward.  I noticed her little ride-on car sitting in the hallway just outside the bathroom door.  I said, "Why don't you go get your car and sit on it?"  She looked at the car, looked at me and said, "Oh!  Good idea!"

How do you capture what it's like to live with a toddler?  I don't think you do.  I think you just cherish every second.

Can I trust God with my fertility?

I wrote this post a while ago - I won't say how long, just "a while ago."  It's about trying to get pregnant and wrestling with resting in God's plan for my life (a difficult thing to rest while wrestling).  Rereading it reminds me how impatient I am.  

Here at the start, I need to recognize all the women who have fought this battle for much longer than I ever have.  Some of you may have struggled with fertility issues for years and have pursued much more than simply "tracking your cycle" to achieve those blessed 2 pink lines.  Maybe you succeeded; maybe you didn't.  Either way, I admire you.  There are so many emotions, expectations, hopes, dreams, fears, insecurities and so much more wrapped up in that process.  Whatever your path, maybe there's something in my thoughts recorded here that can help or encourage you.  I hope so.  

I am, now, pregnant with Baby Bit Francl (our second child) due April 7, 2014.  But when I wrote this, I was not...  

I’m writing this post in a cowardly way.  I’m not brave enough to post this when it’s actually happening – it’s too dangerous, too sensitive, too tender, too vulnerable.  But I’m writing it because I suspect there are many who can relate to what I’m going through. 

I want to start out by saying that I know how lucky I am, and I treasure each second of my life.  I am privileged.  I am spoiled.  I am blessed.  And I am all these things by no merit of my own, but because of the family I was lucky enough to be born into, the opportunities they gave me, and the grace of the God who saved me. 

With that all out of the way, this post is about pregnancy, or rather the lack thereof.  And I’m struggling with it… or without it, depending on how you look at it. 

I have a daughter, a beautiful, precious, perfect, wonderful daughter, and sometimes when I look at her, my breath leaves me because I’m so overcome with how much I love her.  I didn't know this kind of love was possible.  I love my husband – I love him more than I love any other person, truly I do.  But the way I love my daughter is just… different. 

I wanted her.  I carried her for 9 months, perfectly to term, she came exactly on her due date.  And we “TTC” (tried to conceive) for all of 6 weeks before we succeeded.  I took a pregnancy test that Friday morning wanting simply to know that my period was coming the next day.  When it turned up with 2 lines on it, I literally dug the discarded First Response box out of the trash, unfolded the instructions, and laid the test next to the diagram showing “one line means not pregnant, two lines means pregnant.”

I was shocked.  I was in denial.  It took some adjusting because I didn't expect it so soon.  But I was in love – wholly, completely, imperfectly, beautifully in love.  I was Scared. To. Death.  I understood why some women would choose to terminate, it was that scary.  I understood why they might, but that didn't and doesn't change my conviction that such a choice is wrong and should not be legal.  Those two little pink lines meant that I was the only one who could protect my child for now, and I would, no matter how much it scared me.

See, last time it was easy.  It happened effortlessly.  I didn't track my cycle, really.  I *kind of* knew when I was ovulating, but I was also horribly sick with the flu right in the midst of it all (seriously, it was the flu - I was not yet pregnant), so I knew the odds were slim.  After we found out, we joked about how fertile we must be.  “Runs in the family,” we joked.  That was last time.

I had a pregnancy scare months ago now.  I had every symptom, and I had been pregnant before, so I knew what the symptoms were.  I had every symptom except the critical one: those two pink lines.  And I was again scared to death, because it would have been a horribly inconvenient time to be pregnant and have a baby – the due date would have been in the middle of some things already planned that we couldn't change, things we needed to do.   The pregnancy would have complicated a lot of things about life, and we weren't in a place where we even had a place to put another baby. 

A week later my period came, and I started reading about the effects of coming off of the type of birth control I was on.  Turned out my body was reacting in a totally normal way, and I felt totally not normal.

So then I started tracking things.  I tracked them closely.  I read the same articles over and over again.  I recalculated my due date should I become pregnant on each cycle.  We planned to capitalize on each opportunity each month.  Still only 1 pink line.

Through it all, I talked about it with God.  And I guess that’s really why I’m writing this.  I want to remember what I thought, and I suspect if you've gone through a similar experience at all (probably yours was much longer, more difficult, and more frustrating than mine), you can relate…

First, I felt guilty that I didn't want to be pregnant when I had the pregnancy scare.  Convenience shouldn't determine when you have a child – they are, after all, a blessing from the Lord, right?  I felt like maybe I wasn't getting pregnant when I wanted to because God was punishing me for not wanting to be pregnant.

I also had told God (and a number of other people) precisely when I wanted to get pregnant for the second time.  Then I changed my mind and decided that getting pregnant 6 months earlier than I’d originally thought would be ok.  When I didn't get pregnant in that 6 months, I thought that probably God was just holding me to my original plan.  You know, really “giving me what I wanted” in the first place.

In the course of things I was humbled.  No longer could I joke about “super-fertility” and only taking 6 weeks to get pregnant.  It had been months.  Maybe God was teaching me humility.  If only I could learn the humility lesson good enough…

I worked on how I mothered my daughter.  I thought that maybe I still have too much to learn about being a mom to be the mother of 2 – I’d better get after it and learn more about how to be a good mom.

I wondered, what if I’m destined to only have one child – what if that is God’s plan for my life?  Can I submit to that plan?  What if only one biological child is His plan, but he wants me to adopt or foster?  That scared scares me to death, if I’m being honest.  If it’s my flesh and blood, there’s no question that God chose me to raise the child, and though I know I’ll screw up, I don’t have to wonder if this was the child meant to be the recipient of my parenting.  Adopting and/or fostering on the other hand… holy cow.  I admire those who choose those options, because they seem so overwhelming to me.

What if my daughter is the only child I’ll ever have – biological, or not – would I be ok with that?  Is God just trying to get me in a place where I’m willing to do whatever He asks of me?  Will He make me wait until I REALLY surrender everything?  Then I’d better come to grips with it and surrender my plans so I can get pregnant again.

But, I would argue within myself, God put this desire for another child in my heart.  He’ll fulfill that, right? 

And then I’d get on Facebook and see my friends.  This one is due in a few weeks, that one had a baby 6  months ago, this one is announcing she’s pregnant, that one’s baby just weighed in the 90^th percentile – chubby little cutie!  And my friends who aren't having kids are there too, but the soon-to-be and recent mommies stand out from all the others as I look.

I’d climb in bed and look at the picture on my nightstand.  It’s the first family picture we took after we became a family of 3.  It’s one of my all-time favorite pictures – Chase, me, and a little bundle of wonders who I love more and more every single day.  I think back to when that picture was taken and it was such a special time, so sweet, so full of promise.  We were so relieved that she arrived safely, that she and I were healthy, that the scary part was over.  Yet it was all just beginning.

That’s what I want.  That’s really all I want.  I want to feel the wonder of a baby moving beneath my navel.  I want to go in every month and hear the baby’s heartbeat.  I want to be exhausted because my body is building the coolest organ ever – the placenta.  I want to feel nauseous (remind me of that one later…) because my hormones are out of whack, and a baby is growing inside of me.  I want to read every day about what my baby is doing, how he or she is developing, and what I can do to best help him or her, because it’s something that only I can do because only I am the mom.  That’s what I want.

But for now, God is saying no.  I don’t know why He’s saying that.  But I do know that it’s not because He’s vindictive, or punishing me for not learning a lesson, or “just giving me what I wanted in the first place,” or any other foolish thing I might try to put on Him.  I know that He has a plan for me, and I know that it’s hard sometimes just to rest in that.  Why do I make it so hard to rest in that? 

To be honest, the way pregnancy tests are talked about doesn't help.  If you’re not pregnant the test came back “negative” or you “failed” the test.  Instead of getting two pink lines you get to have a stinking period again.  I read a book a while back, The Red Tent.  It was set in Bible times, and it talked at one point about how women celebrated their “monthly flow” because it mean the opportunity for new life was still possible – menopause was not celebrated.  But when you’re TTC, Aunt Flow’s visit isn't something to look forward to.  Especially if she’s a day or two or three late in showing up – that just frustrates things all the more. 

And then there’s the advice they give you or that you read when you’re TTC:  just relax, don’t stress out, don’t over think it, but do track your cycle, know when you’re best chances are, pay attention to your body, etc, etc, etc. 

It’s all so frustrating.  High school girls who have a little “too much fun” turn up pregnant with no way to support themselves and their babies, while committed married couples who have everything in place to care for a child can’t conceive.  *sigh*

But it’s not about fair, and it’s not about what makes sense, and it’s not about what I think at any rate.  It’s about God’s plan.  And we screwed up His perfect plan with sin, so now we live in this imperfect world where we simply have to live each day the best that we can.  

What does that mean?  I’m not entirely sure, but I know that today I have a husband and a daughter, and for now I’ll just take care of them.  And maybe, someday, if I ever have the privilege of being pregnant again I’ll post this.  I’ll post this to remind myself how glad I should be to feel sick all the time, how excited I should feel to be perpetually exhausted, and how elated I should be to again be a part of a miracle.  And I’ll post it to remind myself that God isn't vindictive, that He’s not just “teaching me a lesson,” that it’s not about how well I do or don’t learn that lesson, that His plan is perfect, and I should rest in that.

Maybe I should post this now, but I’m too much of a coward.  I can’t face those around me looking at me, dying to ask the question, “Two pink lines yet?” or “Any luck this month?”  And I can tell you that after this experience, I’ll be much more careful about asking such questions myself.